


Out Of Commission

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [30]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Couch Cuddles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inflation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil gets sent home from work to recuperate, Clint takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of Commission

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Body Inflation
> 
>  
> 
> _With apologies for ~~blatantly stealing~~ borrowing from Aaron Sorkin and Allison Janney_

"Hey Barton, your phone's ringing!"

"Toss it here." Clint put out a hand to catch the phone that flew from the side of the gym towards the practice mat where he was sparring with Nat. He flipped it open and put it to his ear with one hand while making a futile effort to get out of Nat's choke hold with the other.

"Barton," he said into the phone, and Nat was on top of him so she heard the voice on the other end say,

"Specialist Barton, please report to Director Fury's office immediately."

Nat bounced up off of Clint. 

"What did you do now?" she asked, and trotted after him as he headed to the side to scoop up a towel.

"Dunno. Can't think of anything." Clint shrugged, "Catch you later?"

"Sure."

Clint knew from experience that 'immediately' meant 'Don't stop for a shower, or a clean shirt, or even to piss,' and so he jogged to the nearest elevator and headed for the 7th floor of SHIELD headquarters. 

"Barton, please go right in," said Director Fury's admin, and so Clint squared his shoulders and let himself into Fury's office. To see a very familiar figure in a suit with his back to the door, and an angry-looking Nick Fury standing behind his desk. Clint's stomach plummeted. Was Phil in trouble, and was it somehow his fault?

"I don't care, Phil. You are in no condition, and that's final."

"...ut duh bweefing."

"Stop talking right now. Ah, Specialist Barton, thank you for coming so quickly. I need you to take Agent Coulson home."

"What's wrong, Phil?" Clint took three quick steps forward so that he could see Phil's face.

"I hab 'oot ganal"

Clint could see that the right side of Phil's face was puffed up and he was having trouble talking.

"What did you say, I didn't understand you?"

""I hab 'oot ganal" Phil repeated, louder and more stridently, or as stridently as possible when one side of his face was numb, inflamed, and stuffed with cotton.

"Agent Coulson went to the dentist this morning, and had an emergency root canal. He needs to go home and take his antibiotics and painkillers, and rest for at least 48 hours," said Fury.

"'ut duh bweefing..." Phil started to say. Fury put his hand up.

"Someone else will do the briefing. I'll do the damn briefing. You will go home and rest. Is that understood?" Phil's shoulders sagged, defeated. "Specialist Barton, please take Agent Coulson home, tuck him into bed, and feed him ice cream and chicken soup. Do not let him come back in for 48 hours. Do not let him use his laptop to work from home. Do not let him fill in a single piece of paperwork. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Clint grinned, and thought he saw Fury's eye twinkle, just for a second. "Come on, Phil, you heard the boss."

Fury's admin had arranged a car for them, so twenty minutes later they were at Phil's apartment. Clint kicked off his shoes and went to check the fridge.

"There's orange juice, Gatorade, and milk. What do you want? Oh, I know! I'll make you a milkshake! Do you want," he opened the freezer to see if there was any ice cream, "chocolate or strawberry?"

"'awbewwy," mumbled Phil, trailing into the kitchen behind Clint, having taken off his shoes, jacket, and tie. Even through the mumble, Clint could hear the dejection in Phil's voice, and turned around.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"'orry"

"What are you sorry for?"

"oo habing do baybe'i' me."

"Are you kidding? Fury just gave us both two days off! We get to cuddle and watch movies and I get to take care of you and feed you soup and ice cream. It'll be great!"

Phil didn't look like it was going to be great.

"Phil, do you not want me to be here with you?"

"oh! I an' oo! Buck!" Phil grabbed a notepad and pen. 'I want you here, if you want to be here,' he wrote. 'I just feel like an idiot.'

"Why, for having a tooth-ache? That's not your fault, Phil."

Phil shrugged. Clint didn't understand what was wrong, so he pulled Phil into a gentle hug, being careful to put his chin on Phil's left shoulder so as not to hurt his inflamed right cheek. Phil sank into the hug and sighed. Even if he could talk properly, he wasn't sure he'd be able to explain how being out of commission for such a minor thing made him feel so stupid and useless. He'd completed missions with bullets still rattling around inside him, for God's sake, with broken bones and concussions and pneumonia. To be sent home because of a swollen, aching jaw was... humiliating.

Phil tightened his arms around Clint a little and got a squeeze back. It was comforting. If he could only explain it, Clint would understand what he was feeling, he was sure. 

"Dank you." Phil said.

"What for?"

"'or being here."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be." Clint kissed the safe side of Phil's face and leaned back. 

"I bust look 'oobid."

"You do look a bit like a lop-sided chipmunk, but you don't look stupid. Does it hurt?"

"A liddle," Phil admitted.

"You should take your antibiotics, at least. I'm not going to bug you about the pain pills, because that would be pretty hypocritical of me."

"I'll dake dem lader, 'o I can 'leep."

"Good idea. So, bed or couch?"

"'ouch."

"OK, why don't you go curl up and find something you want to watch. I'm going to make us these milkshakes, and I'll be right there."

"wuv 'oo"

"I love you too."

Two hours later, snuggled together on the couch, Clint clicked off the TV at the end of the movie, and Phil just sighed in his sleep and tried to burrow further into Clint's arms. Clint pulled the throw blanket up around Phil's shoulders and dropped a light kiss on the top of his head.

'Best assignment ever. Maybe I could send Fury a Thank You card or something,' he thought as he looked down at Phil, asleep in his arms. His right cheek was still puffed up and there was a tiny dribble of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. Clint thought it was adorable, but carefully wiped it away with his thumb anyway, because he thought it would probably embarrass Phil. He wanted to gently cup the swollen cheek in his hand, but didn't for fear of waking Phil or hurting him. 

Clint contented himself with holding Phil close and watching him sleep. 

"I want to always be here to take care of you," Clint whispered. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
